


Salt on Her Skin

by syrupfactory



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrupfactory/pseuds/syrupfactory
Summary: As a mermaid and a sea serpent, Aziraphale and Crowley are technically on opposite sides of a centuries-long debate for oceanic society. Serpents regularly attack human ships, viewing them as trespassers, while mermaids take a more peaceful and passive approach. Secretly working together, the two of them find a friendship like they’ve never had before ... but it’s a partnership that grows increasingly risky.Written for the Good AUmens fest!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 101
Collections: Good AUmens AU Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally complete! Thanks to everyone who reads the whole thing. <3
> 
> Reblog [here](https://meowdejavu.tumblr.com/post/625842698311598080/salt-on-her-skin-aziraphalecrowley-ff) and see my headcast [here](https://meowdejavu.tumblr.com/post/618230710314172416/aziraphalecrowley-mermaid-au-preview-aziraphale)! <3

_**fifteen years ago — north atlantic ocean** _

Aziraphale had never seen a shipwreck before. She always imagined that the sight would be awful, but now that it was happening in front of her, she couldn’t look away. Some part of her mind felt that she ought to be horrified, or sad perhaps, but as the boat succumbed to the watery depths, seemingly growing larger as it sank toward her, she was frozen. Transfixed.

So much painted wood and polished metal. So much time and effort by well-meaning humans. Sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

“That one went down like a lead balloon,” came a sudden voice beside her.

She looked and started when she found a sea serpent looking back at her. They were the ones who still sunk ships; mermaids considered it immoral. Serpents saw it as a justified defense of their home. This particular serpent looked fairly young—close to her own age, with fiery red hair, glowing eyes, and a long slender tail of slick black scales. Unlike a mermaid tail, the serpent’s had sharp barbs in place of a fluke, and her scales went much higher up the sides of her torso.

“What?” Aziraphale asked when she realized she’d been staring.

“I said that went down like a lead balloon,” the serpent repeated, gesturing to the now-submerged ship with her strangely pretty webbed fingers.

“Oh,” was all Aziraphale could think to say. She didn’t think there was any such thing as a lead balloon, but she didn’t want to ask and sound foolish.

Up above, at the surface, some of the adults in Aziraphale’s pod were helping the human survivors stay afloat so they could call for help. She could hear them singing a traditional mermaid ballad that always lulled humans into a calm, blissful state. Most of the serpents were long gone; they only really cared about sinking the boats. Or so she had heard.

“You’d think that by now they might have given up on travel by sea, eh? I mean, statistically, seems like an odd risk.”

“Is that what serpents want to happen?” Aziraphale asked, genuinely curious. “The humans stop using ships completely?”

“I don’t know,” the serpent said, gaze shifting down. “Not all of us, I guess.”

Something about her made her feel easy to talk to. Something about her felt friendly.

“What’s your name?”

“Crowley,” she said, baring her fangs in a smile. “What’s yours?”

///

**_eight years ago — copenhagen_ **

Crowley always liked Nyhavn in the evening. It wasn’t something she could admit to the other serpents; she wasn’t supposed to _enjoy_ being on land, walking around on two legs. But whenever she got the chance, she’d linger until sunset, watch the lights on the colorful buildings come alive, as blurry gaggles of people went by, laughing into ice cream cones.

There was something admittedly charming about it all. Something so simple, so naive.

And speaking of naive, on this particular evening, something unexpected caught her eye: a head of strikingly familiar blonde hair, pale as moonlight, sitting at a solo table at one of the restaurants.

“No fucking way,” she muttered under her breath, hurrying over and nearly colliding with a cyclist, who muttered something like _take off your sunglasses, idiot tourist_ in Danish.

Crowley half-expected Azirphale to jump out of her skin when she plopped down in the chair across from her, but it turned out that she was too preoccupied with enjoying her meal to notice: Aziraphale’s eyes were shut, and she was chewing something with such obvious and tender indulgence that Crowley felt as though she’d intruded on an intimate moment. But that did give her time to notice Aziraphale’s odd manner of dress—her aesthetic was akin to an elderly librarian, with a conservative, collared top under a light jacket.

They had seen each other in passing a few times over the years, but only underwater. Never on land.

As soon as her eyes opened, Aziraphale gasped. “You!”

“You,” Crowley repeated, curiously.

“Wh— What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same, siren. I’m around here pretty regularly, but … I’ve never seen you.”

All merfolk could phase their tails into human-esque legs just by drying off completely—the complete transformation took practice, as did learning to walk, but the basic ability was innate. But while serpents had free reign to surface whenever they wanted, mermaids had to earn the privilege from their queen.

“It’s actually my first time,” Aziraphale answered, dreamily. “Here, I mean! Not on land. It’s so wonderful, isn’t it? So lovely in the evening. And the food! Oh, have you had _bread_? With _butter_? Incredible!”

In the sea, Azirapahle had always been striking, even from a distance. With her waist-length hair and curves and sparkling tail in elegant white and gold, she always struck Crowley as angelic. But here, on land, gushing about human food in the glow of the evening, she was as radiant as the night itself.

“Where do you usually go?” is what Crowley asks when she remembers how to speak.

“I’ve spent most of my time in Great Britain,” she said. “London, mainly. Visiting museums and libraries, to pursue my cultural studies.”

“Ah, yes, _cultural_ studies. Important stuff, that.”

“Well, _I_ certainly think so. What is it you do in Copenhagen regularly?”

“Oh, you know. Listen to the humans prattle on about all sorts of nonsense.”

Aziraphale gave her a look.

“New navigation technology, shipping routes, fortifications for transports, all very boring, really.”

“You _spy_ on them!” Aziraphale realized, somehow aghast. “Well, I guess I should have put that together. Your lot has to keep tabs on them in some way. Why not have some _coffee_ while you plan your next—”

“It’s not like I _chose_ this gig, alright?” Crowley snapped. “If it wasn’t me, it’d be someone else doing the same thing ... except probably better.”

Aziraphale shook her head. “I’ll never understand your lot. Suggesting that any of us own the ocean is pure hubris. It’s larger than the land, for goodness sake, and it’s not as if the humans claim to own that.”

Crowley gaped at that. How could Aziraphale be so naive?

“Never claim to own—?! Have you read a _single_ history book in all your cultural studies?”

“Oh, stop. You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t. They draw meaningless borders everywhere and punish the people who cross. Humans have far more in common with _my_ lot than you care to admit, love.”

“You’re too cynical. Most people are _kind_. They just want to live happy lives.”

Crowley leaned forward. “You think if _any_ of them knew who we were, we could be sitting here talking like this?”

Aziraphale had no answer for that, instead finishing her cup of tea. Crowley glanced up at the golden, overly buxom mermaid statue above the door to the restaurant—Havfruen, it was called, or _the mermaid_ , and the place appeared in approximately one thousand tourist photos per day.

“Why this place, anyway?”

“Why not? It’s sweet.”

There was her angelic charm again, back like a determined little flame, impossible to snuff out.

“Look,” Crowley said, shifting to lean over the table as she lowered her voice. “I don’t like the ship attacks any more than you do. I can’t stop them, but maybe we could work together. I could feed you intel, and it’d be easier for your lot to show up all heroic-like and get survivors to safety. Before it’s too late.”

The mermaids tried to help whenever they managed to get there in time, but humans weren't exactly resilient when it came to being stranded in the open sea.

Azriaphale dabbed her perfectly clean mouth with her napkin, thinking. “You propose a very dangerous arrangement. For the both of us.”

Crowley nodded; there was no denying that.

“But,” Aziraphale went on. “We could really make a difference. If we did what you suggest. So, yes, I’m in.”

Now, that was a surprise. Crowley had expected her to hesitate or flat out refuse, not agree immediately.

“Perfect, then,” she said, resituating in her seat and attempting not to appear caught off guard. “Guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

“Guess so,” Aziraphale said, eyes twinkling in the growing darkness. “Why don’t you take off those sunglasses? Can you even see?”

In reply, Crowley shifted her glasses down a few centimeters, so that she could peer over them for the briefest moment, letting her yellow eyes glow in the dark.

“Oh, my,” Aziraphale gasped, apparently easily stunned.

“Yeah,” Crowley grumbled. “The eyes don’t transform with the rest.”

“And for good reason. They’re _far_ too beautiful to change.”

It took a solid five minutes for Crowley to recover from what seemed to be an easy compliment for Aizrpahle, still sitting across from her with a kind, oblivious smile.

This new arrangement would certainly be interesting.

///

_**two years ago — outskirts of mermaid city** _

Aziraphale surfaced within the cave and found Crowley waiting. This had become one of their standard rendezvous points, where they met to exchange information. So far, so good—Crowley’s intel was always accurate, and no one seemed to suspect either one of them.

“There you are,” Crowley said.

“Oh, am I late?”

“A bit,” Crowley answered with a shrug. “Was hoping nothing held you up.”

Aziraphale shook her head. “Must have lost track of time.”

“Well,” Crowley sighed. “I actually don’t have any news. Haven’t heard anything.”

“Ah, well, no news is good news, yeah?”

Crowley looked her over. In the dim light of the cave, her eyes glowed brighter than ever and her wet hair appeared black.

“You seem happy,” she observed.

 _I’m always happy to see you_ , Aziraphale wanted to say.

“My ceremony is three days from now,” she said instead. “The queen is naming me an ambassador to humans.”

She’d worked long and hard for the status, which was the highest honor possible for mermaids who chose to pursue human cultural studies. It meant that she’d be considered an expert on human relations.

Crowley raised her eyebrows. “Congratulations.”

“I suppose that doesn’t impress you much.”

“Doesn’t matter what I think. You deserve it.”

Just as she said it, Crowley glanced to the side, and Aziraphale caught sight of a burn mark on her neck, dark and blistered. Only one substance on the planet could make a mark like that: rhodium, the rarest metal on Earth. It was once common, long ago, before merfolk banded together to bury most of it at the bottom of the sea. But there were still traces of it in certain types of sand, and just a handful could be fatal to mermaids and sea serpents alike.

“Who did that to you?” she blurted.

“What? Oh. It’s nothing.”

“Crowley! Tell me. If someone suspects—”

“No one suspects. It’s nothing to do with us, alright?”

“Then what?”

Crowley sighed in frustration. “I was … reprimanded. For poor performance.”

“Performance? Are _you_ on an attack squad now?”

“No,” Crowley said, shaking her head. “I’m no soldier. I just … failed to properly motivate the humans.”

“Motivate? How?”

Crowley grumbled again. “Do I really have to spell it out for you, siren? I don’t just spy on them. I’m meant to … ensure that they set sail on a regular basis.”

Aziraphale’s heart hammered her chest; this was the first she’d heard of this.

“You asked me once, a long time ago, if serpents wanted humans to stop using ships, remember? Well, they don’t. Far from it. They _want_ ships to attack. So agents like me get sent up on land to do all sorts of dirty work. Contaminating any livestock that aren't fish will get you a gold star, for instance. One of my own family mastered a shriek at such high frequencies she could bring down planes. As long as it’s brutal, as long as it keeps the humans dependent upon the sea, the queen loves it.”

“But why?” Aziraphale choked out.

She recalled the many times she’d heard of there being widespread illness among chickens or cows meant for human consumption, but she had never paid any mind to those reports.

“Pettiness,” Crowley said with a shrug. “They despise the humans for their pollution of the sea. And they can’t let go of the fantasy that they’re the most powerful beings in the world. I don’t have a good answer.”

“No,” Aziraphale said. “I meant why didn’t you follow orders? Why risk it?”

Crowley stared at her, unmoving, for a moment. “What would _you_ do?”

Aziraphale looked down. She didn’t know. She didn’t want to think about it.

“Look,” Crowley said. “This is the hand I’ve been dealt. That’s just life. I’m glad we have our arrangement. I’m glad we can balance the scales a little. Don’t worry about me.”

///

_**one month ago — london** _

Aziraphale stood under the eaves of the library patio, watching rain fall and mentally cursing herself. She had stayed too long reading and researching and wholly ignored the weather. Now, she was stuck here until the downpour ended, and it was getting late.

People were coming and going, and she eyed their umbrellas with dubious envy. She wasn’t brave enough to attempt one; the risk was too great. If her trousers became wet enough, she’d lose her legs, literally, because the wetness would make it too difficult to maintain her transformation—and fabric trousers were no match for the strength of her tail. A sudden mermaid in the middle of the sidewalk would certainly attract a lot of attention.

After nearly a decade of land privileges, Aziraphale had become quite good at moving through human society, but there were still limits to her skillset.

Lamps began to come on around her, and she sighed, anxious. She wasn’t supposed to stay on land overnight. It was dangerous to stay away from the sea too long; mermaids who risked it could “go native” and begin feeling overly comfortable in human society. It was addictive that way.

Just then, without warning, someone freakishly strong grabbed her by the elbow and was pulling her into the storm.

“Hey!” she cried. “Let me go!”

Then she looked up and found Crowley looking back at her, rain droplets visible on her standard sunglasses and her auburn curls damp.

“Come with me,” Crowley said. “I know a place nearby where we can wait this out.”

“I— I can’t!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “How can you be so wet and stay standing?!”

“Practice,” Crowley said with a smirk. “And plastic stockings. Come on.”

“Crowley, I can’t. I’ll lose my legs.”

“We’ll be quick about it. I’ll keep you upright. Unless you’d rather be stuck here?”

Aziraphale sighed. No, she’d really like to leave this dull patio. So she nodded, hoping she wouldn’t regret this.

Hurrying through the rain together, Crowley led her down the block, and Aziraphale’s heart was pounding the whole time. In one moment, her foot plunged into a deep puddle and she gasped, but Crowley kept her word, supporting her and keeping her moving.

“Don’t slow down, don’t stop,” she said softly. “We’re almost there.”

Aziraphale held on tight and tried her best, her foot warping inside her shoe and her leg wobbling as they went.

Crowley brought her into the lobby of a hotel, and by that point, Azirapahle’s right leg was perfectly useless, but Crowley passed right by the chairs in the lounge.

“I need to sit,” Aziraphale whined.

“I know,” Crowley said. “Almost there.”

In the elevator, Aziraphale leaned into Crowley, hanging on her and panting, and she felt Crowley’s hands rub her back. They had never stood so close before; Aziraphale thought she could faintly smell the ocean in Crowley’s clothes.

“Are you alright?” Crowley asked.

“Yeah,” Aziraphale said, nodding, even though she certainly wasn’t.

They were in a private room moments later, and Crowley helped Azirapahle into the loo and piled towels in her arms.

“Go on then, get dry. I’ll be out here.”

With that, Aziraphale was alone, and she undressed and dried her skin, sighing with relief when her leg and foot felt sturdy again. Leaving her wet clothes over the shower bar, she pulled on a white robe, tying the belt, and idly wondering if the soft fabric had ever touched Crowley’s bare skin.

Pushing that thought away, Aziraphale stepped back into the room and found Crowley sitting on the bed, having shed her glasses, jacket, and boots, and now peeling cling film off her feet.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “Plastic stockings. I thought you were joking.”

Crowley looked her over and smiled. “It rains a lot. I had to get creative.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, dropping into a chair.

“Couldn’t leave you stranded,” Crowley said with a shrug. “Listen, you can take the bed tonight. I’ll be out at dawn, but feel free to stay as long as you like.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, alarmed. “That’s very kind, but I can’t spend the night here. I’ve got to get back when the rain stops.”

Crowley gave her an odd look. “Why?”

“It’s … not safe. To stay on land so long.”

Crowley’s expression shifted to one of pity. “Don’t tell me you still believe that.”

Aziraphale started to speak and stopped again.

“That’s just an old myth. There’s no real danger. I’ve been up here for a whole week here and there, and I’ve hardly forgotten my roots.”

“A week?!” Aziraphale exclaimed.

Crowley smiled then, shaking her head. “You’re adorable, you know.”

Aziraphale felt that she should be insulted, but the way Crowley said it stirred warmth in her instead. Plus, she looked absolutely stunning sitting there in her sleeveless top, damp hair falling over her bare shoulders, in the glow of lamplight. Suddenly, Aziraphale felt overly hot in her robe. Crowley could have brought her anywhere to get out of the rain, but she’d brought her here. To her private room. And invited her to stay the night.

Perhaps Aziraphale was being dense in more ways than one.

“What should we do to pass the time, then?” Aziraphale asked with what she hoped was a flirtatious smile.

“I’ve got some wine stashed in here,” Crowley said, apparently missing the tone altogether.

“Wine sounds lovely,” Aziraphale agreed, sulking a little as Crowley turned to get it.

Moments later, as Crowley handed her a glass, Aziraphale decided she was misreading the situation. Crowley had only brought her here out of kindness. Aziraphale did have an extensive knowledge of human anatomy and sexuality, which she liked to imagine would impress Crowley, but that was merely a silly fantasy. Wasn’t it?

“Entire weeks on land,” Aziraphale repeated, taking a sip. “May I ask a personal question?”

“Shoot,” Crowley said.

“Have you ever … been intimate with a human?”

Crowley’s eyes went wide, and Aziraphale quietly enjoyed that the question had surprised her.

“Holy shit,” Crowley said, laughing. “Wasn’t expecting that. And, erm, no. I have not. Never really appealed to me. Have you?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, heat rising to her cheeks, realizing she should have anticipated that follow-up question. “No, nor have I. But I’ve … learned a lot about it. Just curious, that’s all.”

The way Crowley looked at her, then, had Aziraphale’s heart pounding all over again. It was as if she was looking right through her.

“Curious about what, exactly?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale considered her answer for a moment, a white-hot desire rising in her pelvis unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

“If it’s as wonderful as I imagine,” she responded, holding Crowley’s gaze.

“Seems it would be,” Crowley said with a casual shrug. “So long as you were with someone you were really fond of. That’s the trouble with humans, isn’t it? Haven’t met many I could tolerate for very long.”

For a moment, Aziraphale idly imagined standing and letting her robe fall to the floor and pushing Crowley flat against the bed, but she remained seated.

“Then again,” Crowley went on, “never been overly fond of many serpents, either.”

Aziraphale couldn’t tell if Crowley was toying with her, and the uncertainty was frustrating.

“Doesn’t leave you with many options,” she said, pointedly.

Crowley chucked and shook her head. “Guess not, siren.”

Aziraphale scoffed, tired of speaking in circles. “Why do you call me that?”

“Siren?”

“Yes.”

 _Siren_ was an ancient term for Aziraphale’s kind, for mermaids of legend who lured sailors from ships to certain doom. Quite the opposite of a term of endearment.

Crowley finished her wine before answering. “You really don’t know?”

“I assume it’s a jab at our ancestors’ shared history of violence?”

“No,” Crowley said, suddenly serious. “It’s not that at all. I call you siren because … you lured me in. Right from the start. I saw you, and I knew I needed to meet you.”

Wordlessly, Aziraphale set her own glass aside and moved from the chair to the bed, where she sat next to Crowley and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, stopping there, letting Crowley decide what would happen next—maybe she’d leap away, maybe not.

With no hesitation, Crowley took her face in her hands and planted the next kiss on Aziraphale’s lips.

That’s all the reciprocation Aziraphale needed. She pulled her close, returning the kiss with fervor, and moved to straddle Crowley’s lap.

Crowley paused, looking up at her and panting, cheeks flushed beneath her bright eyes. Aziraphale pulled the belt of her robe loose and let it fall open just a bit.

Crowley looked her over and grasped the very edge of the robe, slipping it slowly off Aizraphale’s shoulder, and then the whole garment fell away at once. Crowley moved to trail hot kisses along Aziraphale’s breasts and then up to her neck, and the touch felt almost electric on her dry skin.

Moments later, Aziraphale was helping Crowley undress, and they fell into bed together. Some part of Aziraphale’s mind felt that they shouldn’t be doing this, for several reasons, but the part of her that wanted it was much louder.

Repeating Crowley’s gesture, Aziraphale leaned over her and pressed kisses across Crowley’s chest, tasting a hint of sea salt on her skin. When she ran her fingers up Crowley’s thigh, though, Crowley’s whole body seemed to go rigid.

“Is that alright?” Aziraphale asked softly.

Crowley nodded. “It’s … much better than alright.”

Aziraphale smiled at that and moved to rub to Crowley’s vulva, starting slowly and leaning in to kiss her neck again.

“Ah, fuck,” Crowley breathed.

She reached out for Aziraphale, then, letting her fingers graze her inner thigh in a silent question. Aziraphale shivered at the touch and nodded, and soon after, Crowley’s fingers were rubbing her in the same way, and quickly slipping inside, while her thumb moved over Aziraphale’s clit.

Aziraphale gasped in surprise.

“I said I’d never had _sex_ ,” Crowley said, smirking. “I didn’t think that included myself.”

Aziraphale smiled and kissed her again, and it wasn’t long before they brought each other to their peaks. Being intimate with Crowley felt a bit like being submerged after walking on land for a while; wonderful and indescribable and all-encompassing. It was a wonder they had never done this before, Aziraphale found herself thinking.

But lying in the soft bed afterward, still close enough to feel Crowley’s breath, everything about the situation felt suddenly surreal. Aziraphale had long known that other mermaids would frown upon her friendship with Crowley, but what would they say to this? She could hardly pass it off as experimental research, since Crowley wasn’t even human. There came a dull ache in her stomach at the thought of anyone ever finding out.

“You’re always full of surprises,” Crowley remarked with a tired smile.

Aziraphale smiled back. She could let herself enjoy this moment for tonight and then forget it ever happened, she reasoned. It’s not like Crowley would be expecting anything more. It was just a bit of fun in a hotel room. Wasn’t it?

“Goodnight,” she said.

“Goodnight, siren.”

Aziraphale didn’t sleep much at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In present day, Crowley and Aziraphale face new challenges, and each of them have to make choices that will change their lives forever.

_**present day — outskirts of mermaid city** _

Aziraphale surfaces within the familiar air pocket of the dim cave and pushes her wet hair out of her face. She’s alone, but she expected that; she’s a little earlier than usual.

She’s not normally so tense, waiting here for a secret meeting. Taking a breath, she tells herself there’s no reason to feel differently now.

After a moment, the water stirs beside her, and Crowley surfaces—her wet auburn hair looks black in the low light, and her yellow serpent eyes glow bright.

“Wasn’t sure if we were still meeting here,” she says.

“No reason not to,” Aziraphale responds. “Do you have news?”

“Well! Straight to business, then,” Crowley says, pouting.

Aziraphale raises her eyebrows.

“Yeah, I’ve got the news,” she goes on, rubbing her finger over a damp stone as though she’s bored. “English channel tomorrow at dawn.”

“Again?” Aziraphale asks, incredulous. “They’ve hit ships there twice this cycle!”

“I don’t call the bloody shots, alright? I’m just the messenger. And I’m risking my neck to help, remember?”

“I know,” Aziraphale says, relenting. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand the way your lot thinks. But thank you, Crowley.”

“Haven’t seen you on land since—,” Crowley starts, changing the topic. “Avoiding me?”

Aziraphale shakes her head. “I just haven’t been back since … since last time.”

At that, Crowley moves closer, water rippling around them, and reaches out to move a damp lock of hair away from Aziraphale’s cheek. For a moment, she wants to lean into the touch. But in the next, she shrinks away.

“Don’t,” she says softly.

“That’s not how it’s going to be, is it? Not after the hotel.”

Aziraphale swallows. “The hotel was a mistake… We were surfaced too long. Acting like humans.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t do that.”

“Crowley,” she whimpers, voice cracking.

“Look at me.”

She doesn’t look. She knows Crowley can see her clearly in the dark, can see the tears.

“Look at me,” Crowley says again, grasping her shoulders.

“No!” she says, breaking free and turning away. “We can’t.”

A moment passes before Crowley responds. “We can. We could. You just won’t.”

With that, she’s gone.

///

Setting aside her personal feelings about the conversation in the cave, Aziraphale swims as fast as she can back toward home. Zipping through the blue, her surroundings are a blur and she concentrates on nothing other than the propulsion her tail gives her. It makes her feel strong.

The familiar sight of the mermaid city is always a source of comfort, with its glistening towers and large transparent domes, there at the ocean floor.

On the outskirts, she meets with her contact—a mermaid spy with a silver tail and close-cropped hair whose name she’s never learned.

 _English channel, tomorrow at dawn_ , Aziraphale signs, so as not to be overheard.

The spy looks skeptical but says nothing.

 _This is all I know_ , Azirpahale adds, perhaps a bit impatient.

The other mermaid nods and is gone in an instant, off to make a report to Queen Uriel. The spy has never asked Aziraphale where she gets her information, and that’s certainly for the best.

With the report sent, Aziraphale has nothing to do but wait and hope a pod is called to the Channel at first light. Mermaids don’t interfere with the serpents while they’re taking down a ship—they do not fight them. To do so would be a declaration of war. Instead, they wait, and then they help the human survivors, lest all of them drown. It’s been this way for Aziraphale’s whole life, and for some time before that, but she always has the feeling that the truce is an illusion, hanging by the most delicate of threads.

She settles in for the night, curling into her private nest in the underwater cliffside bordering the mermaid city. The dwellings were excavated by merfolk long ago, and the technique allows for each one to be half water, half air, so that her tail can be submerged while her torso is comfortably resting on her bedding. She’s long imagined what it would be like to bring Crowley here, to show her where she lives and perhaps lie together, but she pushes the thought away now. There’s no use thinking of things that can never happen.

///

Come morning, Aziraphale is relieved to hear that a rescue pod was indeed sent to the Channel. She hopes they’ll be able to help most of the unlucky people who boarded a ship destined for serpent vengeance.

Sometime later, though, as she’s on her way to the market, she feels tension in the water—a fluttering sensation that indicates a great deal of fearful movement nearby. 

Just as she’s wondering about it, someone grabs hold of her left elbow and yanks her to a halt.

“Hey!” she says on pure impulse.

But she blanches when she realizes it’s the spy touching her. She’s never even seen them in daylight before—their eyes are a brighter shade of green than she realized.

“You gave me bad information,” the spy snaps.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The pod waited in the English Channel for three hours past dawn and nothing happened. Not a serpent in sight.”

“Oh…” Aziraphale replies, equally confused. “Well, maybe they’re holding off the att—”

The spy is already shaking their head. “Guess you haven’t heard. They hit the Baltic Sea instead.”

“Wh— The Baltic Sea? Where?”

“All over. Serpents attacked ships headed to multiple ports at once. So much for avoiding war.”

Aziraphale is dumbfounded, her stomach in knots and her heart half-broken to think of all the lives lost. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, whoever you get your information from was wrong. You might want to reconsider your source. I know I will.”

“Wait, no, I—”

“Sorry, but I can’t make two mistakes like that.”

With that, the spy is gone, shiny silver tail flipping rapidly away.

///

_**serpent region** _

Crowley isn’t above sulking after being dumped—since that’s what it was to her. She had come to think of Aziraphale as her closest friend, and she really thought the mermaid felt the same. But if it could all go to Hell over one tryst in a hotel room, perhaps she’d been wrong. 

She’s slinking her way through the water, passing time before her next land assignment, when suddenly, she’s being circled.

Crowley stops and glances around to find two other serpents closing in on her—a small one with a dark tail and hair to match, and the other a gray tail and a more solid build. When they get closer, she recognizes them as high-ranking soldiers: Dagon and Ligur. They’re both wearing their battle armor.

“Is this a special visit of some sort? Should I be flattered?”

“The mermaids sent a pod to the _English Channel_ this morning,” Ligur snaps, crossing her arms as her striped scarlet tail twitches with irritation.

“No surprise there, yeah?” Crowley tries in vain.

“We didn’t _attack_ the Channel,” Dagon barks, baring exceptionally thick fangs. “We carried out the most glorious attack the Baltic Sea has ever seen.”

Crowley’s heart sinks, but she doesn’t let it show. “Sounds like they got wind of the old plan, then. Luckily for us.”

Abruptly, Dagon has her by the throat in a grip that’s strong as stone. “There was never an old plan. You were the _only_ one of us who thought the Channel was the target. Which means you _told_ them.”

“As you’ve been doing for some time,” Ligur adds, agitated.

Crowley is increasingly unsure how she’s going to wiggle her way out of this one.

“What’s so terrible,” she chokes out, “about the mermaids saving a few people?”

Dagon tightens their grip, glare partly obscured by the light brown hair floating around their head. “Aside from setting us back fifty years?”

“You’ve forgotten your loyalties,” Ligur says, much more calmly. “So we’re here to remind you.”

///

Crowley isn’t sure when she lost consciousness, but when she wakes up, she finds her arms bound behind her back and her mouth stuffed full of seaweed that she can’t spit out. Dagon still has her by the elbow, and they’re moving quickly through the water with Ligur beside them. Crowley’s first instinct is to try to wriggle away, but she knows stopping them won’t do any good.

When she realizes they’re approaching some large boats up ahead, she’s confused—she expected to have to report to Queen Beelzebub or be thrown in a holding cell.

But then, she sees the nets. They’re fishing boats. And her punishment is going to be _much_ worse. 

Fruitlessly, she tries an escape, only for Dagon’s fist to find her temple, and just like that, she’s being dragged toward the nets with even more haste. They tie her to one of them with thick cords across her arms and tail and neck—and any struggling just brings flashes of pain.

“Give the humans our best,” Dagon says with a smile as they turn to go.

After they’re gone, there’s nothing to do but wait. And when the humans find a serpent in their net, Crowley can only imagine that they will gleefully kill her and mount her body like a trophy—unless she kills them first. She has to hand it to the others; this is a pretty good way of forcing her hand: Her only hope for returning to them is with the blood of innocent people on her claws.

And _maybe_ she could live with that, since they forced her into this spot. But she knows Aziraphale couldn’t.

So as Crowley prepares to die, she recalls the highlights of their companionship. And even though she’s ended up here after all of it, she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not even survival.

///

_**mermaid region** _

Aziraphale is anxious. Hours have passed since word of the serpent attacks spread, and still no gathering has been called. Everywhere she swims, mermaids look solemn and defeated. A rumor is circulating that the mermaids will not assemble an army to defend the humans from serpent attacks, but Aziraphale refuses to believe that.

She’s worried, too, for Crowley. Mermaids were sent to the Channel, which means Crowley’s false message will have been exposed. Hopefully, she made it to land and is hiding out somewhere. But that feels overly optimistic, and Aziraphale’s chest is heavy with dread. It will take a while to get to land and dry off and then travel into the city to check their failsafe rendezvous point, so all that will have to wait.

Outside the royal palace, with its towers of sparkling gold coral, two guards are stationed at the entrance—and a large crowd of mermaids are waiting to be let inside. 

Aziraphale’s heart sinks to think that she might have to wait a while. She doesn’t have that kind of time.

To her luck, though, it turns out that a council session is set to begin shortly. She didn’t realize one had been called, but that’s good news. It means that the queen will appear to discuss their new strategy. Surely she’ll put any rumors about no defense to rest.

As the crowd is allowed to enter, they pass through the gilded hallway, with its high arches adorned in gold and pearls, and come into the throne room, where the council is already gathered on the balcony above. The chamber is exquisite, with two large pillars carved into seahorses bordering a golden chair—a relic of the human world, since mermaids don’t normally sit upright underwater. Looking at it stirs an odd confidence, as does seeing Queen Uriel herself, with her glorious tail of solid gold scales and matching crown.

Her expression is solemn as she welcomes everyone to the gathering.

“Today, we come together with heavy hearts in the wake of great tragedy,” she begins. “We mourn the loss of human lives, and we abhor the actions of our serpent kin.”

She pauses while the crowd takes a moment to process.

“On this day, we formally renounce any further association with serpent affairs. We no longer recognize them as fellow merfolk with opposing views, but rather a threat to world peace.”

Azirahaple’s heart hammers her chest—this is it, she thinks. The queen will declare war on the serpents once and for all.

“By attacking the human cities,” the queen continues, “the serpents have made their enemy clear. We thus leave it to the humans, with their much larger population and impressive weaponry, to make the next move. No longer will merfolk intervene in affairs that do not concern our own kind.”

Aziraphale’s hope abruptly bursts like a balloon being stomped on by an elephant. How could they stay neutral? How could they sit by and watch this happen? The crowd around her is angry, confused, with murmuring and some shouting. A few others start to applaud in apparent relief.

In the chaos of the moment, the queen’s eyes meet Aziraphale’s, and they hold each other’s gaze. Uriel isn’t much older than her; they had been acquaintances before she was crowned, and Aziraphale had celebrated her ordination—no one was more well-suited to the title or more deserving. The last time they spoke was two years ago, when Aziraphale was formally granted her land privileges. She had been so happy then, in contrast to the grief she knows her face must show now.

“It does not bring me joy or pride to make this announcement,” Uriel goes on, holding her gaze for a few more seconds before looking elsewhere. “But our numbers are too small, and our weapons too archaic. If provoked, the serpents would destroy our species. As your queen, my top priority must always be to protect our kind. No matter the cost. We will not enter their war. We will not commune with either side.”

The weight of that last statement weighs on Aziraphale long after leaving the palace. Any contact with serpents had just formally become treason—reason enough to be banished from mermaid waters.

She does understand Uriel’s logic, as sad as it makes her. If the mermaids attacked, if they tried to defend the humans, there would be very few survivors, if any, and those who escaped the war would be forced into hiding. Uriel would never sacrifice her own kind—that’s one of many things that make her such a wise ruler. 

Aziraphale turns to look back at the palace, now that she’s some distance away. It’s small at this distance, sparkling there on the ocean floor. Since she’s already made up her mind about what she’s going to do, she knows she’s unlikely to ever see it again.

With her mind set on a new mission, Aziraphale swims as hard as she can. She briefly considers checking the cove for Crowley, but she suspects that isn’t a safe place to stop anymore. So, she heads for land, desperately hoping that Crowley has surfaced by now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the end, they would always choose each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! <3

_**english coast** _

When she makes it to the shore, Aziraphale is exhausted, and she still has to wait for her body to dry enough before she can transform. Then, on foot, she makes her way to a little hut on the cliff where mermaids store their land wares. It’s a bit worse for wear since no one lives in it, and Aziraphale is greeted by a cloud of dust when she wrenches the door open.

Rummaging through the closet for an outfit, it’s always a bit challenging to find something that fits well—this one hasn’t been restocked in some time. The skirts and trousers are shapeless and the tops never button across her breasts quite right. Mermaids are taught to avoid donning anything fashionable or flashy on land, though, to avoid drawing any unnecessary attention.

She ends up in breezy tan trousers and a sky blue top, pulling up her damp hair to complete the look. Taking in her form in the grimy mirror, she sighs at the rumpled clothes but quickly moves on.

By the time she’s made it inland, it’s already the late afternoon. She hurries to a cafe that was another rendezvous point, looking every which way for Crowley, but she’s nowhere in sight. Aziraphale’s stomach sinks.

Perhaps Crowley assumes Aziraphale doesn’t _want_ to see her. After how Aziraphale behaved yesterday in the cave, that would certainly make sense.

Looking in the window, her stomach rumbles at the thought of a snack and it suddenly hits her that she’s _famished_. Accepting momentary defeat, she steps inside and drops into an empty seat, holding her head in her hands.

She’s taking sad bites of a sandwich sometime later when a group of young people enter and cluster into a booth nearby. When she’s in better spirits, Aziraphale normally finds it fascinating to listen in on their casual conversations. They’re passing around a cell phone, reacting to something surprising. Aziraphale idly wonders what it might be.

“They should let it go,” one person is saying.

“Why?” another asks. “I say just kill it.”

Aziraphale pauses mid-chew, listening more closely.

“How’d they catch it alive in the first place?”

“Says it was in the nets when they drew them up.”

“Ha. Greedy bugger.”

“If any mermaids get caught, then sure, let them go. But one less serpent could only be a good thin—”

Without actual conscious thought, Azirahpale is standing from her table and lunging across theirs, seizing the phone.

“Hey! What the fuck?!”

On the screen, Aziraphale finds the best and worst video she’s ever seen: It’s Crowley, trapped in a glass tank on a sunny dock somewhere. She’s in chains and actively ignoring the person filming, but she’s _alive_.

“Where is this happening?” she says, finally swallowing and scrolling down.

Standing to face her, a boy tries to take the phone away, but he’s far too slow.

“Where?!” Aziraphale demands, holding him at arm’s length.

“How are you so bloody _strong_?” the wide-eyed boy responds.

“The Netherlands,” says a girl at the table. “Look at the headline.”

Scrolling up this time, Aziraphale finds that it reads _Rotterdam Fisherman Finds Live Sea Serpent in Net_.

“Rotterdam,” she says under her breath, setting the phone in the boy’s outstretched hand and letting him go. “Thank you.”

Ignoring their bewildered expressions, she starts quickly for the door, attempting to gather her thoughts and form a plan. But all she really knows is that she needs to get to Crowley as soon as possible. They’ll figure out the rest together.

With no time to waste, Aziraphale knows she can’t afford to go all the way back to the coast; she needs to be swimming as soon as is physically possible.

She stops on the banks of the murky Thames and quickly sheds her clothes, which almost certainly draws some shocked glances, but she pays no attention, swiftly diving in. The transformation is swift, and she makes sure to flip her tail at the surface a few times, so that the humans know not to bother with a search party.

She’s quickly in motion, dearly glad now that she had a meal to sustain her, and she feels numb to the thought that she’s just revealed herself for good. There’s no hiding from human surveillance; her face will have been recorded.

 _So be it_ , she thinks, moving rapidly east.

///

_**rotterdam** _

Crowley shifts idly in her glass cage, groaning with boredom as her floating auburn hair partly obscures her vision of the dock outside. The swarm of curious humans taking photos has grown increasingly tedious as the day has worn on, and her tank water is warm and stale in the afternoon sunlight.

Poking her head out of the water as far as the chains will allow, she gets a breath of air and then sinks back down, avoiding any eye-contact. She had tried to free herself, struggled against her iron harness, but it was no use. The metal is fortified specifically to resist her strength, and she was already weary after her ordeal in the nets. So, exhausted and bruised, she had accepted defeat. She doesn’t know what they mean to _do_ with her when they are finished gawking, but she’s not even sure it matters. It’s not as if she has anywhere else to go.

The sunshine grows abruptly brighter, and looking, Crowley finds that the crowd has been lured away by some other attraction—the people are all turned toward the docks. She daren’t let herself hope it’s anything more than a momentary distraction, but then … one by one, they all start sitting down.

Idly curious, Crowley tilts her head and lets one ear breach the surface of the water, feeling the breeze on her cheek.

Immediately, she can hear someone singing, and her whole body comes alive with renewed optimism: It’s a mermaid ballad, and although she’s never heard Aziraphale sing it alone, she’d know that voice anywhere.

Soothing and ethereal, the song has its desired effect, and the humans are quickly in a blissed trance that will last a while. Then, Crowley sees her: Naked, and with still-damp hair, Aziraphale is hurrying up the dock towards her, big eyes desperate.

“What are you doing h—” Crowley starts and stops as Aziraphale lunges over the side of the tank to embrace her.

“I thought you were dead!”

“Careful, you’ll get wet!”

Aziraphale seems to ignore that warning, looking into Crowley’s eyes and sighing. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

“Worse: They took _selfies_ with me.”

Aziraphale laughs at that, eyes glistening. “Let’s get you out of there. Help me tip this tank over.”

With that, Aziraphale steps around to the other side and takes a stance to push. Crowley is skeptical and tired, but she gives it her best try from inside. The tank doesn’t budge.

Aziraphale is speaking again, so Crowley resurfaces.

“Bloody impossible,” Aziraphale is saying.

“Yeah. I’m rather stuck.”

Aziraphale looks at her and takes a determined breath. “Well, you’re not alone.”

Crowley smiles, happy to have her friend back after all, but then her smile shifts to shock when she realizes Aziraphale is _climbing into the tank_.

“Siren ... _what_ are you—?”

Aziraphale doesn’t respond, hoisting herself up and tumbling quickly in. Her legs morph promptly into her pale tail.

She surfaces and gives Crowley a wide smile. Crowley wants to smile back, but she’s mostly bewildered.

“You realize we’re both stuck, now, yeah? Also, it’s mostly piss in here now, honestly, so I don’t know why you—”

She’s cut off, again, by Aziraphale pulling her into a much closer embrace.

“Crowley,” she says softly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said—I was a coward.”

Crowley returns the affection, holding her close, forgetting all her confusion. “It’s alright. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I love you,” Aziraphale says, pulling back to look at her. “I love you. I want to be with you.”

“I love you, too,” Crowley responds, moving wet strands of blond hair out of Aziraphale’s face. “I always have.”

Aziraphale smiles again, and then shifts her attention to the harness around Crowley’s waist.

“It’s no use. It’s too strong. Too tight.”

Just then, she realizes that people are starting to come out of their daze and turning back to look at them. Aziraphale notices, too.

“Crowley,” she says, suddenly serious. “I want to give them rhodium. I want to tell them about it and where to find it, so that they’ll stand a chance. Unless you ask me not to.”

Crowley takes a moment to process that, stunned. It hadn’t even occurred to her to try. But the humans might actually listen to a mermaid.

“Tell them,” she agrees, nodding.

“We’ll make them let you out first, so you can warn anyone you care about—”

At that, Crowley barks a laugh and shakes her head. “There’s no one. There’s no one else. Just you, siren.”

Aziraphale takes her hand, squeezing it in her own delicate palm, and turns to face the crowd.

///

_**one year later — south downs, england** _

Aziraphale stands looking through a window, out at the ocean that was once her home. It’s a sunny day now after an early rain, puffy white clouds hanging like gobs of cotton above the calm water.

A year ago, she never could have predicted where she would end up. That she’d hand the humans the knowledge they needed to win the fight and watch them defend their ships against the serpents with actual success after so many years of failure. Or that she’d turn her back on her homeland in the process and never look back.

The oven is beeping, then, and she realizes her bread is ready. Slipping on her mitts and taking it out, the smell is downright heavenly. She places it on the counter to cool and retrieves a jar of salted butter from the fridge, happy that it will be ready and waiting when Crowley gets home.

Home. This is _home_ now, this little cottage on the shore. Just for the two of them.

By the time the door swings open and Crowley comes tromping in, Aziraphale has set out two plates with slices of steaming bread, freshly buttered, plus a pitcher of lemonade.

“Smells like someone’s been baking,” comes her voice as she rounds the corner.

Aziraphale smiles to see her, equal parts happy she’s back and amused at her outfit: Crowley is in a pair of bright red rubber boots Aziraphale gifted to her, which Crowley initially protested because they weren’t as _stylish_ as her regular sort, but eventually caved when she realized they were truly puddle-proof, plus tights, a black dress, sunglasses, and a wide-brimmed black hat, to obscure her face.

Not many people recognize the two of them with legs, but it’s best to avoid that trouble.

“Hi,” Aziraphale says, slipping her arms around Crowley’s waist and kissing her.

“Hi,” comes the fond reply. “Missed you.”

They sit to eat, and Crowley closes her eyes as she savors Aziraphale’s bread. It’s possible, Aziraphale often reflects, that they’re the first of their kind. She’s not aware of any other merfolk who have established permanent residences on land. Then again, perhaps they do exist, and the mermaids simply never speak of them. That seems more likely, in fact.

“Is the bread really so confusing?” Crowley asks with a twinkle in her eye. She loves to tease Aziraphale for her “thinking face.”

Aziraphale just smiles in reply, taking a sip of lemonade and finishing her snack.

///

They decide to swim afterward, which means getting undressed, which means they fall into bed and stay for a while. Crowley is always eager when they haven’t seen each other in a while—even if only a few hours—and she trails kisses down Aziraphale’s torso, feeling her arching her back and sighing beneath her touch.

The sighs become a song when Crowley begins to pleasure her—Aziraphale’s moans are consistently melodic and pretty in a way that makes Crowley melt. She takes her time, savoring her, alternating between pressing her tongue down and flicking with the tip, basking in that siren song all the while.

After she comes, Aziraphale only lies panting for a minute or two before she’s up and kissing Crowley, pinning her to the bed to return the favor. Crowley’s own vocalizations are far more feral, with the occasional hiss, and it doesn’t take long for her to reach her peak as well.

Lying together afterward in the soft bed, with the breeze rushing over their naked bodies from the open windows, Crowley looks at Aziraphale and smiles. To have ended up here feels surreal, even now. Better than anything she ever dreamed.

She does wonder, though, if Aziraphale is missing her family more as time passes.

“What is it?” Aziraphale asks, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Just happy,” she says.

Aziraphale smiles. “Me too.”

Looking into her eyes, something stirs in Crowley, and she shifts, raising up on one arm to properly face her.

“Listen,” she says, running her fingers through Aziraphale’s pale curls. “No matter what happens, I’ll never regret this time with you. This will always be the best it’s ever been for me. The highlight of my life. Being with you and living here. I just want you to know that.”

Aziraphale looks touched, though perhaps a little sad.

“Crowley,” she says. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want this to end. It’s the best for me, too. You must know that. I love you.”

“Love you, too, siren.”

The kiss that follows is so long and all-consuming that it leaves Crowley dizzy in its wake.

They walk together out to the beach, then, and Aziraphale breaks into a run when they reach the sand, racing Crowley without warning. She laughs and catches up with ease, diving into the waves with Aziraphale right behind her.

They plunge down together, into the blue depth, rays of sparkling sunlight dancing through the water and gleaming off of the clusters of gold scales in Aziraphale’s white tail. Crowley loves to watch her swim, gliding through the water with incredible grace, strong and beautiful and free in their private stretch of ocean.

After the initial burst of energy, they reunite beneath the waves, embracing and kissing, and Crowley coils her black tail around Aziraphale’s body, holding her close. She believes Aziraphale when she says she’s not going anywhere, that they’re both happy here, but Crowley has learned to never take anything _good_ for granted.

She’ll never attempt to predict the future. But for now, they’re together.


End file.
